New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1887-01-26
HIS FAILURE.
A STORY.

script before him, as he said this, and,
resting his weary head on his hand,
sat boxing out upon the street.
I He was born unto singing" but to-
day he5could not utter what heaven
had breathed into his soul, for the
burthen lay soreiy upon him. Lately
at shad been SO, that when the heart
chords CHI were swept by the unseen mas
ter hand, and his soul essayed to sing
Che refrain, the mellow measures
trembled forth, only to falter before
the unappreciatiye, and the golden
notes died amid the jeers OF the cow
.ardly creatures of spite.
Long he sat at his desk, consulting
his over burdened heart. Should he
sgo on and be buffeted by ridicule long
er? He did not know; it seemed to be
his duty to row against the tide, but
oh! it was hard. Some, he was aware,
counted it strengthening to genius, to
battle and endure, and he envied them.
He believed he could battle and do
bravely-but not alone; he was afraid
he had not the vim to withstand the
contrary currents. Those who should
have held up his hands by words of
announcements stood aloft and looked
ON with unconcern. Others who might
haye made his world of thought to
bud and bloom, passed by on the
other side with uplifted eyes, not
meaning to waste their high might
ness on struggling aspirant, and there
were none to lend a helping hand.
All. yes; he would give it up, and
write the word failure above the prob
lem Of his mission, and leave it I'M
solved. 1t would be hard task GER
tainly, to say to the sweet well-spring
of song within, t'thus far, and no far
cher" but it would be harder still TO
have it's crystal waters lose their puri.
ty on the rocks OF Marah, over which
they must flow.
Yes; he would wall in this beautiful
summer sea, and grow careless and
passionless and send his supersensi-
tive soul to school to the cynical prosa-
ic. He would slip down from the
round OF the ladder to which he had
<clung in desperation; slip down to the
Sblankness OF the monotonous levels.
No one would disturb him there;
and he believed he must be one OF those
who run well for season only; no
matter, he would try and forget that
the rose-wreathed gates Of the glorious
land OF song were ever ajar for him.
WhV should he remember2
He pushed the inoffending manu-
script, which some busy editor had
declined into the open drawer, shut
Sit away from his weary sight, and
yturned the key in the lock savagely.
thus he flung the gauntlet into the
faces OF "The Nine,'' who turned
aside from their chosen singer with
mute sorrow. He fancied now, that
the tide of his summer sea would new
en- rise again; but, there was an infu-
ence, destined to bear upon his dead
Sea world, and say to the adaman-
time shores, BE thou cleft" Thatlit
tile tsrift within the lute' was soon O
he mended and the music was once
more to throb forth in it's enhancing
sweetness.
Again he sat at his desk, and the
manuscript lay before him; but this
time the sunshine streamed over all;
1.-The fairy rainboWs of happy promise
spanned each we'll written line, and the
songs he was born to sing were swell
ing in the deep sea tide with an echo
ssWeeter than ever dreamed Of What
had wrought this magic transforms
ton?
All! the glorious sunlight OF appre-
ciative kindness had broken through
the sullen canopy suddenly, and illu-
mined his dreary way; the helping
hand had been reached out to him,
and had touched those long-silent
chords; and they had given back a
symphony, sweet as the bells OF
Heaven. His doubts that had made
him lose the good he might have won,
were being swept aside by that helping
hand; he had never seen her, but in his
sthankfulness he allowed. she must be
the one good angel sent to cancel his
failure, and help him work out the
sproblem OF his mission. A letter lay
ION his desk, in which she said: II rec
vognize the happy fact that you are a
poet from the perasal of your poems,
which have read; your lines contain
mucn meriCi please Commune ana IWlil
helpyouk'' g
Blessed words! 81 will help you"
they brought heaven nearer than it
had been for many weary years; he
.cbuld have fallen down at her feet, and
8ershiped her for her timely inspira-
tion, but that was impossible, he
would do better, however; he would
continue, and thereby show his graft
stude, by doing his best. She had not
given her address, and the post mark
was too dim to be legible, so he had
no idea from which direction his help
WAS coming; no matter, if she had
seen his poems in the past-she would
! he watching for them in the future
A year went by and he found his
powers Of song developing, and he be-
gan to look forward to the bright fields
ofthe promised good once more. The
dreams Of his youth came back now
5 Z y